Doug Billings: Tracy did mention we shouldn't let him gamble. Or drink too much.
Phil Wenneck: Jesus, he's like a gremlin. Comes with instructions and shit.

Tristan, I have nowhere to send this letter and no reason to believe you wish to receive it. I write it only for myself. And so I will hide it away along with all the things left unsaid and undone between us.


Truly, for some men nothing is written unless THEY write it.

Sherif Ali

Ed McDonnough: [taking H.I.'s mug shot] Turn to the right!
H.I.: What kind of name is Ed for a pretty thing like you?
Ed McDonnough: Short for Edwina. Turn to the right!
H.I.: You're a flower, you are. Just a little desert flower.

Prince Humperdinck: Tyrone, you know how much I love watching you work. But I've got my country's 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it; I'm swamped.
Count Rugen: Get some rest. If you haven't got your health, then you haven't got anything.

Cynthia-Rose: How are we going to compete with them?
Chloe: I'm not supposed to have any ideas. I'm the hot one.
Fat Amy: Um, I'm pretty sure I'm the hot one.

Peter Gibbons: Um, the 7-Eleven, right? You take a penny from the tray.
Joanna: From the crippled children?
Peter Gibbons: No, that's the jar. I'm talking about the tray, the pennies for everybody. We're basically doing the same thing only we take it from a much bigger tray and we do it a couple of million times.

Andie: Unattached?
Ben: Currently.
Andie: Likewise.
Ben: Surprising.
Andie: Psycho?
Ben: Rarely, Interested?
Andie: Perhaps.
Ben: Hungry?
Andie: Starving.
Ben: Leaving?
Andie: Now?

Use of any unnecessary violence in the apprehension of the Blues Brothers... has been approved.

Police Dispatcher

Grandpa: [voiceover] That day, she was amazed to discover that when he was saying "As you wish," what he meant was, "I love you." And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back.
Buttercup: Farm boy... fetch me that pitcher.
Westley: As you wish.
[they begin kissing]

James Bond: Wait... three measures of Gordon's; one of vodka; half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it over ice, and add a thin slice of lemon peel.
Bartender: Yes, sir.

Tom: We both know I deserve to get super laid for this.
Violet: Do you want me to wear a cape or something?
Tom: I want the show.
Violet: You get the Cirque du Soleil of shows...

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